


Roses

by celestialskiff



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Bathtubs, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Massage, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:56:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialskiff/pseuds/celestialskiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt asked for <i>rimming</i>. I added shared baths and massage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses

Deanna's skin is rose-scented, her hair still wet from the bathwater. It curls close around her face. Beverly traces her fingers over Deanna's cheekbones, her throat. Beverly's fingers are rough and puckered from the hot water, and Deanna's skin feels impossibly soft. 

She kisses Deanna, one leg tangled between Deanna's thighs. Her skin feels hot, damp between her breasts and thighs. She's standing, Deanna sitting at the edge of the bed. Beverly's hands are on Deanna's shoulders, feeling the wings of bone through the pale skin. The kiss is slow. After a shared bath, Beverly thinks it should taste like crisp champagne, or strawberries, but in fact they drank peppermint tea before getting in. 

“You're so warm,” Deanna says, tilting her head back, exposing the line of her throat. “I didn't think I'd ever feel warm again.” 

They'd spent hours on a planet, slogging through icy mud, rain in Beverly's eyebrows. She kisses Deanna's collarbone. Beverly thinks she shouldn't want Deanna now, she shouldn't need more than a warm bath and a hug, her muscles ache and she feels heavy, but she's kissing the space between Deanna's breaths, breathing in the scent of her. Roses and tea. 

Deanna runs her fingers down Beverly's cheek, tilts Beverly's face towards her. She's smiling, hair a dark fuzz around her face, and she says, “I want you too.” 

Beverly runs a thumb along the line of Deanna's jaw. It feels so good to touch this skin here, now, in their quarters, while she can. Sometimes she sees Deanna on the bridge or down a crowded corridor and she just longs to touch her like this, to reaffirm her connection with this women. 

She never would. She's only this needy in bed, in the warmth of the quarters, when both their skins are flushed and damp from a shared bath, when it feels like all they are is right here in the half-light. 

“On your stomach,” Beverley says, softly. It's not a command, but Deanna leans up, kisses her once more, and obeys, rolling back onto the bed. She stretches out across the soft, red sheets, right in the middle, legs slightly spread, arms folded under her. Beverley looks at the long line of her spine, at the smooth shapes of her shoulder blades, her soft thighs. 

She runs practised fingers over Deanna's neck, her shoulders, hearing Deanna murmur in appreciation. She's good at finding the knots. She licks this skin too, tasting it, her hair trailing along Deanna's back, tickling her as she moves. Deanna shivers slightly, gooseflesh rising on her back.

“Are you cold?” But Beverly knows Deanna's warm, can feel the flush under her fingers. Beverley kneads Deanna's lower back, seeking the places that usually ache. Deanna's muscles are loose, she's pliant and trusting under Beverly's hands. Beverly kisses her spine, kisses the spot where back becomes buttocks. 

Deanna murmurs low in her throat. “Oh, this is... this is good.” And Beverly's aware that Deanna can feel her pleasure too, can feel the joy she gets from touching Deanna, that their pleasure is wound together in Deanna's mind. When Deanna says _good_ she knows how good it is. 

Beverly answers by licking her again, sliding her tongue over the cleft of Deanna's ass, damp hair trailing over Deanna's skin as she moves. 

She slides her right hand slowly between Deanna's spread thighs, feeling the damp curls, the wet folds of her labia. She slips her tongue between Deanna's cheeks, tasting her, nudging the short, soft hairs here. She still tastes of roses, and faintly musky. Deanna thrusts downwards, pressing her vulva against Beverly's fingers. 

Beverley answers eagerly, sliding her fingers over Deanna's slick skin. Her tongue darts further into the cleft of Deanna's ass, probing, finding... 

“Oh!” Deanna gasps softly, and Beverley tilts her head up, smiling. Deanna must have known she was going to do this, but still, every time Deanna responds with surprise as well as pleasure. 

Beverley runs her tongue along the rim of Deanna's hole, feeling Deanna's heat. Deanna whimpers softly, low in her throat, and Beverley traces her fingers gently over the folds of Deanna's vulva, tongue licking and probing the small pucker. Deanna arches her back, and Beverley's hand moves with her, sliding into her wet heat. 

Beverley feels so surrounded by Deanna, mouth tasting her, fingers inside her, smell of Deanna all around her. She loves that, revels in having all her senses detect only Deanna. 

She licks over Deanna's perineum, tongue sliding away from the delicate nerve-endings at her anus and then finding them again. Deanna is hot and wet and eager, thighs trembling slightly. Still, they're slow together, Beverley's mouth practised, her hands familiar on Deanna's skin. She knows every inch of her, knows what motion will draw a soft moan from Deanna, what will make her gasp. She loves knowing that, the intimacy of finding the soft, sure place inside Deanna that make her whimper. 

Her hands are so quick and clever, she trusts them to know the right places inside Deanna, and her tongue is lost to Deanna's skin, her mouth touching Deanna's most intimate place. 

When Deanna comes, it's slowly, the climax building between Beverley's fingers, Deanna's clenching muscles, and Beverley's hot tongue. 

When Deanna comes, she's loud. She's always loud. 

And Beverley smiles, tasting her fingers, loving every sound.


End file.
